


Poetic Bee

by colorthefall



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Brotherly Love, F/M, Poetic Bee - Freeform, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorthefall/pseuds/colorthefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of one-shot stories about the Young Lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Wirt

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I got really confused when I was posting another chapter of my other story, and make a big mistake, so I just deleted it because I got embarrassed and resolved to posting all of my Wirt/Sara drabbles in one story. I am a spazz. Anyways. I hope you enjoy! And I know there were comments on Just In Case that I didn't get the chance to respond to, but I want to say thank you and I really appreciate you both! ♥

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara has a surprise for Wirt.

Sara smiled as she tapped her fingertips to the tune of the tape she listened to nearly every night before she went to sleep, and every morning before she left for school (after having invested in a tape player, of course). Every word that Wirt spoke over the powerful and somewhat trembling booms of his instrument warmed her heart and never failed to bring a smile to her face. 

She already had quite an appreciation for the clarinet- considering Wirt was her friend, and he’d begun playing in elementary school, so it was only right to have an interest in what your friends did, wasn’t it? Especially when that same friend came to all of your dance recitals, even if he tried to hide in the back behind strangers so you wouldn’t see how eager was to be there.

After listening to the tape, however, her fondness for the music grew into adoration. She had ventured out to buy new tapes to listen to different styles of music that the clarinet could produce, but found them all spine-chilling at worst and unpleasant at best. She only liked it if Wirt was playing, she supposed.

With a placid grin on her face, she listened to the boy over the tape whisper, “Goodnight,” and could no longer bite back her giggles, nor could she suppress the blush from crossing the bridge of her nose and pooling up in her cheeks.

Crawling begrudgingly into bed, she tucked herself underneath her blankets and pulled out the tiny journal she kept beneath her pillows. The surface was littered with cartoonish yellow bees and bright red, glittery hearts, and on the front page of it was a note written in illegible bright red crayon;

“ _From Greg and Wirt to Sara the Bee_.”

She beamed every time she read the note to herself, her smile growing ever brighter even in the darkness of her room. Wirt and his little brother were always around, doing kind things for her and supplying her with endless laughs and memories that would flash before her eyes every night before she drifted off, soothing her of any troubles she may have gathered throughout the day, though they were so few. She tried to return the favor- to let them know that she loved them dearly- by baking them sweets, buying Greg little trinkets and interesting toys, and on the rare occasion she found something to suit Wirt’s taste for the finer and rarer things in life, she bought him gifts, as well. But still, she wanted to do something for Wirt that would equate to all he has done for her.

“ _You are the flower toward which I fly,_  
 _seeking out comfort and a safe place to lie_  
 _Upon your soft, sweet petals is where I wish to be_  
 _for all of my life_  
 ** _Eternity_**.”

“I don’t know how he writes stuff like this without getting embarrassed.” she murmured aloud to herself, chuckling at her own poem. It was one of the many she had stayed up late writing and perfecting for the past month, and the third to last which she planned to write. One a day; to fill up every page in the journal, and to last until Wirt’s birthday.

Closing the book with a contented sigh, she rolled over with the intent of surrendering herself to sleep. But it never came. Instead, words flooded her brain, melodies caused spikes of energy to rush through her body, and endless scenarios of what would happen once she gave Wirt the journal held her eyes captive even when she closed them. This must have been how Wirt felt, too- except he felt it every single night. She felt her heart flutter at the thought with something akin to sympathy, but that feeling battled with her thinking it was unbelievably endearing.

She sat back up in her bed and pulled out the journal again.

Even though it wasn’t technically the next day yet, she wanted to write now, when the inspiration was still there.

“ _The dark bags beneath your eyes remind me of cloudy skies_  
 _As they pour their tears onto the trees below, relieved to finally cry after so long of being kept inside_  
 _I am the flower that longs for the chance to bathe in your sorrows_  
 _standing in your tearful downpour_  
 _In hopes of assuaging at least some of your pain_  
 _for a brighter **tomorrow**._ ”

…

“G-good morning, Sara.” Wirt mumbled as he greeted her in the school courtyard.  “I’m glad you’re here; I thought you weren’t coming today because you might be sick… and then I was going to go to your classes for you to get your assignments- but then I realized I don’t know what your fourth period is, so I was going to ask your counselor for your schedule, but then I remembered I don’t know who your counselor is and that Jason Funderburker knows because he’s got the same-“

“Good morning, Wirt.” Sara interrupted him with a smile. “That’s sweet of you. My fourth period is Economics in room three thirteen.”

“Economics!” Wirt groaned under his breath and nearly smacked himself in the head for being ignorant about something so obvious. He looked up, prepared to apologize for his hypothetical negligence, when he noticed that Sara’s eyes were bloodshot and rather puffy, and that her hair looked particularly unkempt. Worry flickered in his deep brown irises and he frowned, temporarily forgetting how flustered he was as he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead to check to see if she was really feverish.

“I’m fine, Wirt. I just stayed up a little late last night.” Sara assured him, but naturally, because of his tendency to be a worry wart (or a worry Wirt,as Greg had put it), the look of concern stayed firmly on his face.

“You’ve been staying up late a lot lately.” he commented, looking down at his feet. “Is something wrong? You can tell me… “ he offered her, his voice gradually getting mousier and mousier and he remembered that he was Wirt and just couldn’t seem to keep his cool in a conversation that lasted more than thirty seconds with anyone except his brother Greg.

Suddenly, his eyes widened and his body froze.

Silence filled the air, making her anxious just a bit, but still, Sara waited patiently for Wirt to finish his thought.

His neck jerked upward, and tears began to pool in his eyes, alarming the shorter of the two to the point of reaching for his shoulder to keep him from breaking down or freaking out.

“A-a-are you b-breaking up with me?”  he asked in a broken voice, biting his lips once the words had finally escaped his mouth.

“What!? Of course not, Wirt! How did you even-“ Sara spluttered, shocked at the notion, but she stopped before she questioned how on earth Wirt could have possibly come to that conclusion based on her staying up late at night and simply shook her head, offering him a grin. “No, Wirt, I am not breaking up with you. I don’t plan on ever doing that.”

With that, the tears that did escape from Wirt’s eyes were forced to walk a lonely road as the rest of them vanished into thin air. Sara watched as Wirt tried frantically wipe them away with the sleeves of his sweater before she saw them, and how he miserably failed to do so. She pulled him into a sweet embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and letting her tired body go limp against him, which he accepted with open arms that quickly clasped tight about her frame.

“I…” he began, sighing and burying his nose into her curly black hair. “I love you…” he spat meekly, closing his eyes and pressing his red face deeper and deeper into her thick hair until he reached the skin on her neck and nearly burned her.

“I love you, too, Wirt.” she laughed light-heartedly, nuzzling into Wirt’s own haphazard dark brown locks. “I’ve just been staying up… doing stuff.” she wished she could elaborate, because she knew that now Wirt was going to spend at least a week fretting over what was troubling her if she didn’t, but she wanted to keep the poetry journal a secret until his birthday on Sunday.

“What kind of stuff?” Wirt asked in an uncharacteristically playful tone, swaying back and forth with the girl in his arms.

“Legal stuff?” she said, but it came out like a question, as though she were asking Wirt if such an answer would suffice.

He laughed, which was a good sign.

“As long as you get some sleep tonight, okay?” he told her in his most authoritative tone, pulling away from her and attempting to give a stern look- but he failed; he was sweating, nearly panting, and so red that he looked like a hot mess, not to mention the grip on her shoulders that he had was so light that it was like getting hugged by a feather. “O-or I’ll have to arrest you!”

“Will do, officer.” she joked, winking at him.

She then paused and looked into his eyes, then at his pointy nose, and finally at his lips that had gotten red from being bitten so hard as he tried to hold back his tears a few moments ago. Wirt followed her gaze, even going cross-eyed looking at his nose, and stopping when he could no more.

_Uh-oh._

He braced himself, and nearly fainted when their lips were pressed together. Sara’s nimble fingers played with the locks of hair on the back of his neck while she kissed him. Wirt was melting, about to pool up at her feet, never to be kissed again because you couldn’t kiss a puddle, could you? And if she could, he’d evaporate and find himself in the clouds, desperately waiting for a rainy day so he could once again meet her lips…

That’s good. He thought to himself, making a mental note to write that down later.

She broke their kiss and reached quickly for Wirt’s hand, interlacing their fingers.

“Let’s get to class.” she declared with a gentle grin, tugging along lanky Wirt behind her, whose noodle-like limbs could only travel with the aid of his lover’s strength.

…

September fourteenth.

It was finally the day that Sara would give the journal to Wirt.

She woke with a start- late again, having slept right through her alarm as her body desperately tried to catch her up on some sleep. But that could wait; what was important was bringing the journal to Wirt on his birthday, and spending the day with him. She could sleep once she was in his arms.

“I’m turning into him.” she yawned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Writing so much poetry really did make her feel closer to Wirt, and she hoped that it would show.

Out of habit, once she stood from her bed, she went to turn on the tape player, but decided against it and instead went to her wardrobe to throw on her clothes for the day. After tying her hair back into a messy bun and throwing on a woolen white sweater, she kicked on her boots and dizzily bolted from her home, journal tucked beneath her arm.

She knocked gently on the door to Wirt’s home and waited for an answer for nearly ten minutes before she decided to knock again. It was still early; only eight am, but Wirt, Greg, and their mother as well as Greg’s father were early risers, so she expected at least one of them to be up by now.

The sound of tiny, bare feet pattering against tiled floors sounded through to the doorstep on which she stood until finally it cracked open and she found herself staring down into two large, impossibly cute bug eyes that lay above a flushed button nose.

“Hi, Sara!” Greg cheered brightly, flinging the door open wide and throwing his arms around her waist, though he could barely reach and had to stand on his tip-toes.

She pat his head and laughed.

“Hi, Greg!“ she greeted, trying to match his enthusiasm. "Good morning!”

“Good morning! Are you here to say happy birthday to Wirt?”

“I sure am.” Sara declared, taking note of the bits of chocolate that clung to Gregory’s lips as he spoke. Sweets this early in the morning? She didn’t have much time to finish her thought or to elaborate before Greg gasped excitedly, catching sight of the notebook underneath her arm.

“You got a matching journal for Wirt!?” he asked, hopping up and down on the balls of his feet.

“No, not exactly.” 

“Oh…” she frowned, looking down at the journal that she had grown to love so much, a gift from the brothers that had captured her heart. Why did she decide to write all of the poetry in here? Now she didn’t get to keep it. She pulled it out and opened it to the front page, tearing it out carefully and tucking into her jean pockets. “I’m giving it back, with a surprise inside!” she chimed, making Greg’s already bulbous eyes grow even larger, glinting wonderfully all the while.

“A surprise! This is going to be so fun!” he giggled, reaching for Sara’s hands and urging her to come inside. She was a strong girl; fit and built with muscle from head to toe thanks to years of dance and wrestling, but she let the little boy drag her about anyways and laughed the whole time, too.

Sara and Greg wound up creeping quietly up the stairs and snuck into Wirt’s bedroom like thieves in the night. Being Sunday, Wirt was still fast asleep and curled up in his blankets. The two intruders climbed into bed at either side of him, Greg easily sliding back underneath Wirt’s arm where he had been before he got up to answer the door, while Sara kicked off her shoes and made herself a place beside her boyfriend’s sleeping frame.

She took in her surroundings, noticing that there was a thick chocolate cake resting on the nightstand with a tiny chunk taken out of it that Greg had undoubtedly helped himself to while Wirt was still asleep, and underneath the plate on which it sat was an envelope that said “From mom.” Sara smiled and reached for the note, taking a peak while Wirt was still asleep to read it. Moments passed by and Wirt still slept soundly as Greg and Sara awaited his awakening, and when it still didn’t come after nearly fifteen minutes, Sara found herself lying in bed comfortably and draping an arm over Wirt’s thin frame, resting her hand on Greg’s head at the same time, prepared for a nap.

“Greg?” Wirt finally stirred, whispering in a hoarse voice while his eyelids slowly fluttered open to stare at his brother and human teddy bear. “When did you- ah, never mind, I’m still tried.” he yawned, closing his eyes and squeezing Greg before he realized that there was warmth behind him and that another person was holding him.

He shot up from the bed with a fright, holding Greg against his chest as he snapped his neck to stare down at Sara’s sleepy eyes. He flushed brightly, having only dreamed about Sara in his bed before this moment and nearly fainted at that recollection.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Sara began in a whisper. “Happy birthday.” she sat up, too, a smile gracing her lips as she held out the bee journal for Wirt to take as his gift.

He took the journal into his free hand, releasing his grip on Greg for him to roam freely around the room. But the little kid had been so excited about his big brother’s seventeenth birthday that he had stayed up until one in the morning when Wirt was actually born just to be the first one to tell him so.

Luckily, Wirt had thought the gesture cute and simply snatched Greg up from the floor and well, that’s why the youngest brother had been being used as a stuffed animal before Sara arrived. So, he was too tired from the missing hours of sleep to keep his eyes open any longer, even with the aid of the sugary chocolate cake. Greg slept peacefully with his own small arms still tightly coiled about Wirt’s, nuzzling it gently.

Sara cooed at the sight, wishing she would have brought her disposable camera with her so she could snap a picture of the moment. She remembered Wirt and the journal, and looked back at the freshly seventeen year old boy in front of her with a somewhat nervous grin. Of course he was going to like it… but she felt uneasy because she was never one for writing, especially when it came to writing personal narratives and poetry of all things. All the poems were probably awful.

“You’re rubbing off of me, worry Wirt.” she whispered while he read.

“S-Sara, what is this? Did you write these?” Wirt asked, his eyes wide in fascination as he flipped through the small, cream-colored pages, getting bits of glitter from the red and purple inks the poems were written in on his fingertips. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest at the sweet proclamations of love that hid between the stanzas of every sonnet, villanelle, cinquain, sestina, and haiku, and in the little doodles on the back of every other page that usually depicted the two of them holding hands.

“Yeah, they’re not that great, but-“

“These are beautiful.  They’re… they’re better than mine.” Wirt told her firmly, sensing her unease instantly and knowing he had to quell it quickly.

“Really?” she started in disbelief, blushing deeply at the compliment.

Wirt nodded and smiled that weird half-smile when he looked like he was trying to force himself to not let his grin stretch from ear to ear. He felt all of the blood in his body rushing to his head and pooling in his cheeks, nose, and ears the longer he looked at the gorgeous girl beside him and willed himself to look back at the journal so he wouldn’t pass out before he even properly read one of the poems inside.

“ _I anxiously await the morning through the stifling isolation of the night_  
 _Because once I wake I know I will be greeted by your tender gaze_  
 _When we are together I never stop to question why I feel like I might die_  
 _Because your love will send me straight through the maze of clouds in the sky_  
 _To the golden gates that await us all in the **afterlife**_.”

If Wirt didn’t know any better, he would have been extremely jealous of how gracefully the powerful words seemed to dance about the pages when he himself could hardly write a poem from start to finish without leaving eraser marks, scribble-outs, and tiny scratches on the paper in the process.

But this was Sara. She was good at everything from dancing to wrestling so why shouldn’t she be good at putting her thoughts into words that would paint masterpieces in his mind as he read and listened to them?

Wirt’s red cheeks stung when Sara poked them with her fingers to snap him out of his reverie.

“What are you thinking?” she asked gently, watching his gaze flicker like candlelight on a windy night.

“Can… you read…” he stammered, looking into her sweet brown eyes again. He cleared his throat and tried to make his crackling voice a few octaves lower before he continued. “Can you read one to me?”

She nodded in response, taking the journal back from him. But before she could open it and begin reading one aloud, Wirt shuffled further back against the wall and Greg, freeing his arm from the sleeping child’s grip and bringing it to curl about Sara’s waist. He pulled her closer and used his free hand to tuck the blanket around her exposed legs, jumping slightly when Sara took the close contact as an invitation to lay her head on Wirt’s chest. He bit his tongue, his heart stopping in his chest as she nuzzled against it, her soft, curly hair ticking his chin all the while.

“ _You whisper so faintly, like a breeze in midsummer heat_  
 _attempting to rustle the leaves in the trees_  
 _But you shy away before anyone can appreciate_  
 _the moment of cool relief that you exude_  
 _Stay just a moment longer, my love_  
 _so that I may **feel you**_.”

Sara closed her eyes, feeling so soothed by the beating of Wirt’s heart (once he had finally calmed down a bit) that the sleepless nights were finally going to claim her as a victim. She closed the journal and set it to the side, wrapping both of her arms tightly about Wirt’s scrawny torso and putting her whole weight against him. She was about to drift off when she felt him gingerly push her away, so that he could pull her back in again to press against his lips.

In shock that Wirt had actually initiated a kiss for the first time in the two years they had been dating, she didn’t even have time to kiss him back before he pulled away and flashed her the panicked look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even ask if you wanted-“

“Wirt. I wanted it.” Sara confirmed in a deadpanned voice. “I literally always want kisses from you. I even wrote a poem about it to remind-”

“O-okay, okay, I’m going to-“ Wirt spluttered, waving his sweaty hands back and forth as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Please do.”

“Wait, y-you wrote a poem about k-kissing?” he asked, cocking his head cutely to the side, his messy hair shifting with him. “You’re going to read it t-to me, right?”

“After you kiss me.”

“…b-but I-“

“You what?”

“I love you, Sara.” he finally spat it out and sighed in relief, holding his hands against his chest.

“I love-“ she tried to respond, but Wirt decided that mid-sentence was the perfect time to finally resume the kiss.

The day didn’t go as it probably should have after that.

Sara was tired.

Greg was tired.

Wirt was fully rested and couldn’t sleep even if he tried.

So he sat in bed between his two favorite people as they got the rest they deserved for putting  up with him every day for so long, content to flip through the journal that had been given to him. He had plans to go out and probably buy himself a few things, to give Greg money so Greg could buy him something, too, because the boy insisted on it despite having no money of his own, and then going on a walk with Sara through the town to wind down the day.

But lying in bed was good, too.

Maybe even better, he decided with a nod.

Mornings passed by each time he blinked. But while everything else around him seemed fleeting in nature, including the leaves upon the trees that fell every autumn despite the promises they’d made to the branches that they would always hold on, the heavy feeling of love in his heart would always stay so long as Sara was in his life. With the journal, even when she was not around, he felt the warmth of her skin against his own, he could smell the sweet, fruity scent of her freshly washed hair, and he could hear the calming, near somnolent tone of her voice in his ears.

Wirt woke with a start on a snowy December morning- mostly because Greg had come into his room and was jumping up and down on his chest screeching like a baby dinosaur.

“Wirt! It’s Sara’s birthday!” he cried, flailing his short arms about wildly.

“Greg! Stop it; I’m up! I’m up!” Wirt yelled over his brother’s ear-piercing siren. He managed to capture the bouncing boy in his arms before he could succeed in cracking any more of his ribs. Once Wirt had caught his breath, he smiled and rubbed his nose into the soft brown locks atop Gregory’s head. “Thank you for waking me up.”

“No problem! But you forgot to put me on snooze, so I gotta keep screaming until-”

“No, no that won’t be necessary.” Wirt laughed nervously, bracing himself to hear the screams again.

He pressed his finger against his brother’s tiny nose and whispered, “ _Boop_ ,” successfully shutting off his alarm clock.

Greg made a lip-zipping motion and winked at Wirt with a pleasant grin on his chubby face.

Wirt rolled out of bed and kicked on his boots, not bothering to change out of his pajamas since he was just going to cover up in thick winter clothing anyway. He popped open the lid to his cassette player and pulled out a yellow tape inscribed with “ **For Sara, #2** ”.

“Come on, Greg. Let’s go give it to her.” Wirt declared cheerily, watching his balled up blankets grow a pair of tiny feet clad in polka-dotted socks and roll sideways off of his mattress.

“You mean I don’t have to give it to her this time?” Greg asked hopefully, his voice muffled by the blankets covering his head. Wirt knelt down in front of him to untangle him from the sheets.

“Nope. I’m going to.” he stated firmly, scooping up Greg into his arms and carrying him to his room to get him dressed for the trek up the road to Sara’s house. "And you didn’t have to the first time… I would have given it to her at some point, probably.” he added in a murmur.

“Yay Wirt!” 


	2. Just in Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara can't help but feel like it's her fault that Wirt and Greg ended up almost dead last Halloween.

With their parents out of town for work during summer vacation, Wirt was forced to look after Greg for nearly a month and was rather enjoying doing so.

He got a part-time job at the local coffee shop and used the money he had to buy Greg a small drum set. Greg was preoccupied with playing his drums downstairs while Wirt could stay upstairs and do pretty much whatever he wanted without having to worry about his brother setting the house on fire (again) or running out into the road and getting himself hit by car (which he thankfully had yet to do). Plus, the songs that the six-year-old constructed were nothing short of adorable and even Wirt couldn’t watch Greg perform without breaking out into a grin that stretched from ear to ear and feeling his heart melt into a puddle.

Greg had finally finished putting together one of his songs and ran excitedly up the stairs, nearly tripping over his own drumsticks on the way. He screamed once he flung open the door to Wirt’s bedroom, who screamed, too, instinctively tensing his body and for some reason throwing his clarinet across the room as though it were contraband and Greg was a cop.

“OH MY GOSH! GREG!” he cried out, clutching his chest and grimacing at the way his heart skipped beats in reaction to the sudden scare. “WHAThave I told you about screaming for no reason!?” Wirt scolded him, wiping the sweat from his brow and frantically waving his hand at the clarinet for Greg to go and grab for him.

“IT’S **NOT** FOR NOTHING!” Greg yelled, making Wirt jump again, nearly falling out of his chair. “I JUST WROTE THE BEST SONG EVER! _EVER_!” Greg was so thrilled with his own work that his hands trembled as he held them out to give Wirt his clarinet.

Wirt sighed, taking his instrument back and cradling it as though it were an infant, stroking its sheen, black surface with his fingertips. He was still a little upset with Greg for startling him so badly, but it was increasingly difficult for him to stay mad at that cute, chubby face, especially when it was beaming like the sun’s rays. He laughed and removed one hand from his precious clarinet to pat his precious brother’s head affectionately.

“I bet it is, Greg, and I can’t wait to hear it.” he cooed, making the little musician’s face light up ever brighter.

Greg was about to go off on a tangent about how difficult his song-making process was on account of his stubborn kick pedal, and the fact that his bass drum was too sad to boom on cue tonight after accidentally being tipped over by Greg’s dad when he was trying to get up stairs. But his speech was interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing through the long corridor outside of Wirt’s bedroom.

He looked up to his brother and watched the teen’s pupils dilate, getting a sinking feeling in his own stomach at the same time.

“Who i-i-is th-that?” Wirt whisper-yelled, throwing his arms about his little brother’s body and bolting up from his chair. He cradled him like a clarinet and began to shake and shiver anxiously as the sound of the footsteps grew louder. Wirt didn’t know if he should fight or flight.

“M-maybe it’s Jason? Maybe mom and dad?” Greg spluttered, feeling a little afraid himself. But he had to brave. Wirt was scared of everything but Greg was usually only scared of vegetables and shower monsters.  Greg chose fight.

Before either of them had time to process it, Greg had wriggled out of Wirt’s arms and rolled across the floor, where he retrieved a pillow and crouched down in front of the doorway with it at the ready.

The footsteps stopped and the door flew open.

“ **AHHHHHHHHHHHHH**!” Wirt and Greg screeched in unison. Greg willed himself to throw his weapon at the intruder, shutting his eyes tightly so he wouldn’t have to see if his plan failed or succeeded. He then covered himself with arms, balling up in the fetal position to protect himself from any harsh blows on the part of the home invader.

Sara couldn’t scream along with the boys on account of the pillow smothering her. She stumbled backward and into the hall, where she caught herself on the opposite wall. Wirt could tell it was Sara, though, by the yelping sound she made upon being attacked and the way her sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floors. He nearly pulled his hair out of his head in frustration with the whole fiasco.

“Sara! I’m so sorry!” he spat, running out of the room and stepping over his brother who still cowered on the floor.

Wirt removed the pillow from Sara’s flushed face and tossed it to the side, biting his lip and making several strange, animal-like noises as he tried to figure out the best way to apologize to her. She simply smiled to let him know she was okay, though her lips still quivered as adrenaline surged through her veins.

“It’s okay! I let myself in after all, you didn’t know!” she said before Wirt could interrupt with a barrage of condolences. She pulled him into a sudden embrace, nuzzling her cheek against his neck. “I’m happy you’re okay!”

Wirt immediately latched onto her. He was confused, but that was no reason to deny a hug, was it?

“What do you mean?”

Sara jumped when she felt something on her leg and clung to Wirt more tightly, making him do the same to her. They both looked down to see Greg with his arms legs wrapped around Sara’s leg and his big, shimmering brown eyes staring up at her apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Sara! You weren’t here to steal anything except my brother’s heart. Who am I to try and make a love a crime?” he cried wistfully, rubbing his nose into her thigh like a puppy.

Sara just laughed at the strange boy she’d come to love so much and pat his head.

“I was coming to visit, and then I heard you guys screaming and thought you were in trouble.” she finally explained, scanning the area around them for intruders once more just in case she missed them the first time after having her vision obstructed by the pillow. “I brought some snacks and movies but I kinda dropped them outside when I ran in here.”  she chuckled nervously, running her fingers through her disheveled hair. “You guys should really keep your doors locked, by the way.”

Wirt’s face went red at the sweet gesture, but his enthusiasm was dulled by the fact that he pretty much ruined her surprise and wound up scaring her half to death while she was trying to implement it. He frowned and hugged her again before the trio parted ways. Sara reluctantly shook her leg, causing Greg to unlatch himself from it and roll onto the floor, bumping into a vase nearby.

Wirt glared at Greg silently, making Greg frown because he hated it when Wirt wore his mom-face; it meant he’d done something wrong. Probably leaving the front door unlocked so Jason Funderburker could come and go from outside at his leisure. The youngest brother tried to convey this to the older one, but Wirt grit his teeth and glared even more gravely as though to say “You know that darn frog can’t turn the door knob! He’s got slippery… frog fins? Feet?”

“Just in case.” Greg murmured.

“I’m happy you’re here; I was just missing you. I wish we could have greeted you better.” Wirt smiled, looking into Sara’s eyes and cupping her cheek before he pressed their lips together.

Sara smiled as the kiss was broken.

The two were prohibited from staying the night together by Wirt’s mother ever since they became an item, but this summer, they’d made a habit of doing so anyway because it wasn’t like they’d be doing anything that was inappropriate for their age or illegal so what’s the big deal? And Greg swore he wouldn’t tell on them because he knew they weren’t doing anything bad either and like he said before, he’d never punish a man just for loving.

The three made their way down stairs. After they went out outside to retrieve the movies and candy, Sara and Wirt sat on the sofa while Greg frantically spun around all of his drums to face them to give them a proper performance of his most perfect song. He sat on the tiny red stool and clacked his drum sticks together as he cleared his throat, finally bringing them to tap against the shiny plastic surfaces of his drums.

“ _We fell into a lake and then we got lost,_  
_we didn’t know the way and neither did the moss,_  
_then we met a bird named Beatrice and then she was the new boss_  
_as we went on our way through the woods!_ ”

Wirt chuckled when the lyrics began to paint images of the Unknown in his mind; almost all of Greg’s songs were about it with a few black sheep about mundane daily routines. But Sara frowned and stayed silent as she listened to Greg sing and was reminded that he and Wirt were mere seconds away from death when their journey through the woods supposedly took place.

The brothers had told her stories about the woods before. Well, Greg mostly did anyways, and Wirt was more or less forced to whenever Sara was confused and disturbed about some of the finer details and needed clarification. Most anyone else were skeptics of the whole thing; even Wirt and Greg’s own mother had assumed it was just a dream they shared together somehow.  But Sara had a strange feeling that deep down inside, what the boys experienced in the woods was far from fabricated by imagination.

The Beast, the bird, the demons, the witches… as creative as they both were, it seemed unlikely that they could dream up an entire world just by being submerged in icy water for three minutes.

“ _We were cold and scared and blind_  
_as the day turned to night_  
_behind every tree was something that gave us both a fright_  
_but every now and then the sun would shine, warm and bright,_  
_as we went on our way through the woods!_ ”

Wirt applauded his brother’s more poetic choice of words and the two exchanged warm grins.

Cold?

Sara remembered how cold Wirt’s skin felt as she held his hand at the hospital. Her stomach churned at the memory and she winced in pain. It initially went undetected by Wirt, who had cheerily begun to whistle along to the tune of Greg’s song, but as soon he glanced back at her, he could clearly see how forlorn she was. And the fact that Sara wasn’t clapping along and that her smile seemed artificial could only mean she was preoccupied with her unease. Wirt gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but even that wasn’t enough to pull the girl from her reverie.

They were scared.

If their story about the woods was true, Sara could only imagine how terrified Wirt must have felt when he couldn’t find a way out and when he couldn’t remember why they were there. He was probably terrified every time Greg wandered off, too. Absolutely mortified when he learned that Greg was in the hands of the Beast…

“ _We wanted to go home, and he said he had a way_  
_he took me to a place and had me play some silly games_  
_then he put me in a tree and said that maybe I should pray_  
_cause I’d never see another day in the woods!_ ”

It was Wirt’s turn to frown at the sudden dark turn the lighthearted, cutesy song had taken. He furrowed his brows in worry and looked at Greg, who realized he’d made his fans upset and that he’d probably hurry through the drum solo to get to the happy ending of the song so as not to further displease them. Tapping on the snare and kicking at the bass, Greg went back to the refrain before he finished up the song with the final verse.

“ _I thought I was alone but then Wirt and Beatrice came!_  
_Wirt put out the lantern and made the Beast go away!_  
_And then he picked me up and carried me and then we were safe,_  
_and sound and out of the woods!_ ”

Wirt was relieved it was over, as he feared that surprise verses recounting the more gruesome things that the boys had experienced in the woods were going to make themselves known if it had gone on any longer. He offered Greg a standing ovation, and Sara followed suit despite the frown that was her face adorned. Greg bowed to his audience and blew them kisses, reveling in the applause that he knew his perfect song deserved all along.

“Thank you, thank you,” he murmured between kisses. He smiled and trotted away from his drums, grabbing onto Sara’s legs again and looking up at her with pleading eyes. “Did you bring gummy worms?” he asked hopefully, having forgotten about his performance in favor of sugary candies. She was released from the captivity of the woods she’d been thinking of during the song and laughed, fishing around in her jacket pockets for the candy.

“Here’s your sugar, sugar.” Sara said with a wink, pouring some worms into Greg’s hands.

“Thanks for the sweets, sweetie!” Greg winked back.

“Only a few, Greg; you’re already bouncing off the walls.” Wirt warned in his mom-voice, making Greg roll his eyes. He then proceeded to shove all of them into his mouth at once and laid on the floor to properly appreciate them festering, making his spit sweet and the roof of his mouth scraggly.

Sara waited on the couch while Wirt dimmed the lights and put on a movie.

When he came back to sit with her, she laid her head against his chest and had her arms wrapped around his torso, all the while being held in the same way by Wirt, who rested his chin on the top of her head. They had a few chats here and there, talking about any old thing like how work was that day or if NASA identified any more new planets in the galaxy of late. It was painfully evident to Wirt that Sara was being eaten from the inside by something, but he wanted her to tell him on her own accord.

Greg was running around the house screaming with Jason Funderburker on top of his head. His yells sometimes made the young lovers jump with fright but they eventually became accustomed to it.

They sat through what must have been a movie marathon before Wirt finally worked up the courage to break the silence between them. He gently ran his fingers through Sara’s hair as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Is there something that’s on your mind?” he congratulated himself on his smooth delivery of the question. Sara pulled herself away from the comfort of Wirt’s chest and frowned miserably at him for a moment, making Wirt’s eyes widen with anticipation of her response.

“I’m sorry, Wirt.” she choked out, her voice quickly faltering. She tried the hardest she could to keep herself from crying but to no avail. She’d been holding in her tears for months and it was time to set them free, as did clouds during a rainstorm. The familiar stinging of her eyelids as they began to fall made both parties wince in figurative pain.

“What do you mean? What are you sorry for?” Wirt stammered, his own tone matching Sara’s. He reached up to wipe her tears away, but she gently shooed him and silently insisted she could do it herself because she didn’t want him to be bothered with her outburst.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? I just can’t help but…” she sighed, cupping her hands over her eyes. She hardly ever cried. In fact, this was only the second time she ever cried in front of Wirt in the entire time they’d known each other, and the first time he was actually conscious to witness it. Wirt felt like he was looking at a stranger. Surely someone this fragile couldn’t possibly be his girlfriend, could it “I can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault. I pushed you. I made you feel rushed. I made you run away.” she finally explained, feeling a weight lift from off one of her shoulders to finally tell him the truth. But that weight immediately shifted gears and sat on her heart, burdening her still.

Wirt thought about Sara’s words for a long while and still hadn’t the slightest idea of what she was talking about.

Sara never rushed. Ever. Her patience is unflinching in the face of eternity, and is one of the things that drew him to her to begin with in a life that seemed to give Wirt no time to spare.  

Sara was there to help him after his dad died all those years ago, because her dad died, too, and she knew how it felt. She sat with him while he cried outside on the porch almost every night. She listened to his long stories about the awful things that his stepfather did to him (He called him “Son” for goodness’ sake! What a jerk!). She listened to him passionately recite his favorite poetry no matter how many lines long it was. And she sat with him when he cried at school, too.

And most importantly, she waited years and years for Wirt to finally open up about his romantic feelings for her, desperately trying to suppress her own so as not to spook him when he wasn’t ready. But even despite her efforts, she had made Wirt feel pressured to hurry up and confess to her on Halloween night by giving her that mix tape. But in the end, he wasn’t ready and ran away over the garden wall to try and escape so he wouldn’t have to witness her reaction to it.

He wasn’t ready.

That’s why he almost died.

“It’s my fault.” Sara cried softly so Greg wouldn’t hear, still covering her face, so Wirt wouldn’t see.

The poet’s heart murmured as a crack split through the middle of it upon seeing his beloved weep. He shook his head, trying to find the right words to say as he held her against his chest again and felt her own rise and fall as she struggled to breathe. Her sobbing grew more profuse and Wirt realized he didn’t know what to do for her. Sara never needed comforting; she was always the one comforting him. That fact just made Wirt even more pained in his chest, because he couldn’t repay Sara for all of the good she’d done for him in the past.

She was his hand to hold and his shoulder to cry on, so what was he to her?

“It’s not your fault, Sara. It’s my fault.” he started, brushing stray locks of ebony away from her tear-dampened face. “I’m a spazz. I’m… I was worried about something that wasn’t going to happen. You never rushed me… you’re the only one who never rushes me.”

Wirt’s words were comforting for her heart, but did little to assuage the guilt Sara had in her gut. She’d always feel responsible for it. She had been feeling responsible for it every time she thought about it. She wanted Wirt to come to the party even though she knew he didn’t particularly care for them. She wanted Wirt to come to graveyard with her and her friends even though she knew how shy he was. And then she pointed him out to all of them when he was probably trying to hide.

“I don’t ever want to rush you, Wirt.” she reiterated between shallow breaths.

“You never, ever do. I promise! You’re the only one I can count on to give me everything I need.” Wirt held her face in his hands and gazed fondly into her eyes. “I wasn’t running away from you because of that… I was running away from you because…” he trailed off, his cheeks going bright red again and his brows furrowing in irritation.

Sara was perplexed.

“Because what?” she asked him in a tiny voice, her eyes wide with wonder. Wirt bit and licked at his lips, trying to think of something, anything that would change the subject but at that point there was no turning back.

“Because… I thought you liked Jason Funderberker!”

There was a moment of pause. All they could hear was the sound of Greg’s tiny feet pattering on the kitchen tiles, followed by the pattering sound of Jason Funderburker the frog’s paw-fin-things. He was being oddly quiet. Eavesdropping, probably, Wirt though with a pout.

“J-Jason Funderberker?” Sara asked, the tears no longer pouring.  “You thought I liked him?”

She always knew of Wirt’s insecurities, but it wasn’t until that moment that she truly felt she understood how deeply embedded they were into his psyche if he could believe for one moment that Sara would have preferred Funderberker- the kid who smelled like mothballs and had clammy hands that she’d only known since seventh grade when he moved to the city, over himself- the boy she’d been in love with since the day they met in elementary school.

She bit her lips and got a funny look on her face and Wirt knew that she found the whole thing to be one big joke. But he was overwhelmed with joy when she finally started laughing, unable to hold back her giggles any longer.

“You’re crazy, Wirt!” her voice chimed from behind the hand she was covering her mouth with. “I never liked him like that, not even a little bit! I’ve never liked anyone but you!”

Wirt’s embarrassment slowly dwindled as he was soothed by the sound of her sweet laughter- the same kind that played in his head in a song and inspired to write poems about it. About her. And how sweet she was. How selfless she was. How cute she was when she was… breathing. Wirt didn’t know everything about her even after knowing her for over half of his life, but the things he did know, he was completely enamored with. He grinned sheepishly and reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“Sara!” Greg called suddenly, running in from the kitchen with Jason Funderburker in his hands. “You’re in love with Jason!? You gotta kiss him so he’ll turn into a prince!” his voice sounded very urgent.

Wirt rolled his eyes, but started laughing along with Sara at the thought of her kissing frog Jason or even human Jason for that matter.

Greg recoiled his hands and tucked his frog underneath his arm suddenly.

“Wait, no! Then you won’t be with Wirt!”

But Sara had accepted her mission. She reluctantly let go of Wirt’s hand and looked at him with a glint of deviousness in her dark brown irises.

“I’m sorry, Wirt. I just have to be with Jason.” she smirked and turned back to look at Greg, whose face had panic written all over it as he regretted suggesting that Sara and Prince Jason Funderberker be together. “Give me that frog, Greg.”

“No! You gotta stay with Wirt!” he protested, hopping up and down anxiously.

“How could you do this to me, Greg?” Wirt moaned dramatically, throwing his head back and covering his eyes.

“I’m gonna run away with the frog, Greg.” Sara wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and hopped up from her seat on the couch, lunging forward and tackling Greg to the floor. She shifted the child to one of her arms and the frog with the other, staring into its beady black eyes with a look of disgust in her own as she tried to imagine what it would feel like to put her lips against its slick green skin. Probably how it would feel like to kiss the real Jason, too.

Sara wasn’t going to go back on her word no matter how unappealing her new beau was. She puckered her lips and moved toward him. Wirt looked on with horror. Greg managed to reach his arm just far enough to tickle Sara, making her arm twitch and the grip she had on the frog to fall loose.

“GET OUT OF HERE, YOU HOMEWRECKER!” Greg commanded his once good friend, who hopped away from the madness and back into the kitchen to take a nap on the nice cool tiles.

“ **NOOO**! My husband!”  Sara cried, lying on the ground in defeat.

“Oh so now he’s your husband!? LOOK WHAT YOU DID GREG, NOW THEY’RE MARRIED AND I’M GONNA BE ALONE FOREVER!”

“I’m sorry, Wirt, I didn’t mean to let this happen! I can fix it!”  

Greg reached underneath the coffee table and found a bible. He climbed on top of it and stood before Wirt and Sara, who were both still pretending to be absolutely distraught thanks to that no good Jason Funderberker, but Greg’s new persona of an ordained minister caught them off guard.

The rest of the night seemed to last forever for the three of them, the home they were in preserved in time in a thick cloud of summer heat. They were married by Greg, who shooed them upstairs to “ _conflagrate the marriage_ ” like he had heard some people say on tv before, throwing candy in their wake in place of rice. But eventually, it did draw to a close. They managed to get Greg to sleep in his own room and left the door open for the light in the hallway to shine through. They double-checked that all the doors were locked and finally found themselves in Wirt’s bed, facing each other underneath the thick blankets, barely able to see through the darkness.

“You know, you never accepted my apology.” Sara told him, their noses pressed together.

Wirt scoffed.

“You have nothing to apologize for, remember?” he told her in a gentle yet firm voice. Did their talk earlier not change her mind about it? He sighed to himself in frustration; for a writer, he apparently gave very unconvincing heart-to-heart talks. He wasn’t the best as saying things off the bat, as evidenced by the tape he’d made for her, riddled with mistakes in his impromptu poetry readings.

“Yeah, I know. But just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“I don’t know…”

“Okay. I accept your apology, Sara.”

“Thanks, Wirt.” Sara smiled, closing her eyes. “I promise I’ll never make you run away again…”

“I promise I’ll never run away again.” Wirt corrected her, closing his eyes, too.

Sara fell asleep almost immediately. She was pleased that even if it wasn’t her fault, Wirt had humored her and finally said it was okay. But Wirt stayed awake, sifting through his past memories of Sara. This experience humbled the invincible version of her that he’d constructed in his mind over the years. He never thought she had anything to not be confident about; she was gorgeous, talented, and sweet, loved by nearly everyone that spoke to her. But after this experience, Wirt finally realized that he wasn’t alone in his feeling insecure.  He pulled her close and sighed in relaxation when her head found its way to his chest again because Wirt felt like that was where it belonged in the same way that his arms were most comfortable when they were coiled around her. He nuzzled his nose into her soft hair.

“It’s not your fault, Sara.” he said to her for what was probably the fifth time that night. “I wanted to tell you again, just in case you didn’t believe me when I said it wasn’t.” he knew she was asleep, though. He figured he’d just have to keep reminding her from time to time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched a long video analysis by Trey the Explainer comparing Dante's Inferno and Over the Garden Wall. I was very convinced with some chapters, but others were kind of a miss. One thing that bothered me was how they compared Sara to Geryon, a creepy demon thing that was essentially responsible for getting Wirt/Dante and Greg/Virgil into hell. They said that Sara was like Geryon because of her mascot costume! While I am a skeptic of this particular theory, I still thought it would be interesting to ponder how she'd feel if she felt responsible for it. I recommend watching the video if you haven't already!


	3. Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt is feeling jealous of all the things that eat up Sara's time, and scared that one day they're going to take her away from him. But Sara leaving him is the last thing he has to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really feeling ridiculous fluff tonight and couldn't sleep so this was born. I was thinking about Bright by Echosmith toward the end of it, so that's where to title came from! I hope you enjoy reading as much I enjoyed writing.

If Wirt found it difficult to understand just one planet, venturing to wrap his mind around the infinite expanses of space was essentially impossible. He couldn’t begin to understand Sara’s infatuation with the stars, nor could he empathize with her desire to discover new celestial bodies and universes.

It was endearing, of course; the way her eyes lit up at the mention of anything related to space, how she started stumbling over her words as she told him about her dreams of building spacecraft and working at NASA and maybe even being an astronaut, and how she bitterly clung to her every penny to save up for a high-end telescope and journals in which she could record her observations.

Aside from his head spinning in confusion as Sara explained the multiverse to him, there were real downsides to Sara’s astronomical musings.

Guilt plagued him as he pondered all that troubled him about his girlfriend’s enthusiasm for space exploration.

He should probably be more supportive of her interests, right? After all, she was always there at his poetry slams, and was always there to give him pep talks before playing with the band at football games. And when he nurtured his love for theater by joining an acting class at school, she animatedly read lines with him, showing up at all of his plays, sitting at the front so he could look at her smile for reassurance to quell his nervousness.

Still, he reasoned, it couldn’t be fair to say that Wirt can’t feel iffy about Sara’s hobbies because none of his own were so _terrifying._

 _Why_ did she have to like all of the dangerous stuff? Space, _wrestling_ \- oh, don’t even get him started on _wrestling._ If he had a dollar for every fracture, broken bone, and concussion, he’d be richer than Quincy Endicott and put that tea empire to shame. Even dancing had led to sprains and twists and forced her to visit a chiropractor every other week so she could have her bones popped back into their rightful places!

But space was Wirt’s absolute most hated interest of Sara’s.

Space kept her sleep-deprived, as she insisted on staying up all night to see asteroids and comets shoot across the sky. It kept her preoccupied to the point of neglecting spending time with him. But he could deal with all of that… the problem that space brought about that Wirt couldn’t possibly live with was the idea of swallowing Sara whole, never to spit her back out.

He had _nightmares_ about her leaving on a trip to the moon and ending up stretched to death at the heart of a black hole (after she explained the phenomena of _spaghettification_ to him, of course). But Sara is relentless, and doesn’t even bat an eyelash at any sort of damage that could be caused to herself, so Wirt naturally took it upon himself to be scared _for_ her.

Wirt had spent nearly half of his life worrying about Sara’s safety for the both of them and for just once, he wanted to have a nice time with her- where he could be _absolutely_ certain she was safe and well and that’s **not** too much to ask for, is it?

Wirt’s internal conflict ended with envy as the victor. The expression of apprehension on his face formed to one of discontent in the blink of an eye.

 _This_ was their _date_. Yet, she’d hardly said three words to him before she whipped out her supplies and went to work constructing her telescope ten feet ahead of where Wirt had set up their picnic.

If he could win Sara from Funderberker, then he could win her from space, too, right?

A dramatic, long-winded sigh escaped Wirt’s lips; a last-ditch effort to capture Sara’s attention before he resorted to _accidentally_ breaking that darned telescope. She turned to glance at him from over her shoulder, her eyes as wide as the full moon. Wirt felt heat rise to his cheeks as he stared at her placid expression and admired how the stars bathed it in their dreamy glow. He groaned under his breath, because he really wanted to be upset but she made it so hard when she looked at him like that. 

Wirt closed his eyes and collected himself.

“Is something wrong?” Sara asked innocently, knowing full well that Wirt had brought her to the park to indulge in his romantic fantasies- the ones that he murmured about while he was sleeping and sometimes grumbled to himself in English class when he was sure she couldn’t hear him… and she knew she was totally killing the chances of that happening tonight.

But she couldn’t miss this comet after she’d waited so long to see it; the brightest of its age! Not to mention it wouldn’t come back around for a thousand years.

She only had one chance in her life to see this comet, but Wirt was probably going to marry her one day so she thought it’d be okay if she focused on the comet just this once… she was very wrong. The look of sadness on his face told her that it was most certainly not okay and that she was the worst girlfriend in the history of forever for neglecting him.

Guilt-ridden, she let the large metal tube of the telescope fall into the grass and tucked her hands into her jacket pockets.

“I mean, yeah; I was really looking forward to this date, because we never get to have real dates because you’re always busy.” Wirt murmured, shuffling about uncomfortably where he stood.

Sara approached him with her head hung low, biting her lip.

“You have wrestling practice. And when you don’t have that, you have an astronomy club meeting or some kind of field trip, or-or a science fair project to work on… or you have to go to some kind of _math_ competition!”

Wirt released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and held his trembling arms out. Sara gladly walked into them. She coiled an arm about his waist, beneath the flaps of his opened jacket, and with her free hand, pat his back gently to soothe him. She could tell he was letting his panic get the better of him the more he dwelled on these issues by the way his breaths became shallow and quick. She felt pangs of sympathy in her heart.

“I’m sorry, Wirt. I _am_ too busy…” she whispered tentatively, truly resenting her difficulty saying “no,” because she couldn’t stand the disappointed look on a person’s face when they asked something of her and she chose not to deliver.

She didn’t want to see it on her mom’s face when she asked her to join the wrestling team, nor did she want to hear the remorse in her physics teacher’s voice had she declined his request for her to run the astronomy club… she couldn’t even _imagine_ how upset her AP Calculus teacher would have been had she opted out of joining the honor society!

Sighing softly, at a loss for what to do, Sara tried to find the right words to say that would make Wirt feel better. It was evident that she needed to let something go in favor of being with him more often. She personally wouldn’t mind ditching the math competitions, as the rigorous training sessions she was forced to sit through with the rest of her math buddies during class and school holidays were the absolute _worst_. And she had always been rather indifferent about wrestling. She didn’t hate it, but she would rather pursue dancing… she didn’t want to upset her mother, though, by not continuing her legacy.

Wirt cleared his throat. Sara looked at him intently.

“You still… make time for me.” he thought aloud, puzzling her.

Wasn’t the problem that she _didn’t_?

Wirt realized that everything he was saying only proved that he was wrong for being jealous of that stupid comet and all of her clubs.

Through it all, Sara still found the time to help Wirt with trigonometry and physics every Thursday afternoon, and she still stayed the night on Fridays and Saturdays, and went to his poetry slams on Sundays.

She pretty much sacrifices _all_ of her free time for him.

“It’s just… I’m scared. I’m always worried that you’re going to hurt yourself. And you do. Like, all the time. You just broke your wrist three weeks ago! And, you keep running into walls and stuff because you’re so tired. Look. You’re sleeping right now aren’t you?”

“No, no, I’m just… resting my eyes… stars are really bright.” Sara yawned, immediately opening them and making them as wide as she could to prove she was fully awake and alert.

Wirt remained unconvinced by the explanation, but his feeling slighted had completely vanished and he felt like a big jerk for even making a scene out of it in the first place.

 He smiled sheepishly as he brushed the stray strands of silky hair out of her eyes and rested his hand on the back of her head, gently coaxing her to lie against his chest. She closed her eyes and obliged without hesitation, finding the quilt-like fabric of his flannel jacket comforting.

“I’m sorry. I’m grateful… I really am. I can’t be so selfish… you have so many people that are crazy about you. A-and you deserve this.” he decided with a triumphant nod, feeling the bubbles of anxiety recede in his chest. “Forget I said anything, okay? I’ll… help you with this telescope. Well, I won’t be much help because that thing looks pretty advance technogloy-wise, but, maybe I can read you the instructions or something?”

“No; it’s okay. It’s the brightest comet of the twentieth century; I’ll see it fine from the blanket.” Sara grinned, unwrapping her arms from around him and tugging him gently toward their picnic area.

“A-are you sure?” Wirt spluttered, smiling stupidly as Sara lay on her side and coaxed him beside her.

“Of course. I want to lay down with you anyways.”

They faced each other.

Sara took hold of Wirt’s hand and gingerly entwined their fingers.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the comet slowly grow in the sky, its near-blinding white light smothering the other spectators and everything in its path. Gasps and squeals of delight sounded through the park as it passed overhead. Wirt rolled over onto his back and stared at it, his mouth agape all the while.

“Sara! Th-this is amazing!” he whispered, letting his head fall back to the side to meet her gaze. “Aren’t you going to look at it?”

She smiled and shook her head, silently deciding that the look of pure amazement her boyfriend adorned was more spectacular than any comet she could see. And the best part was that she wouldn’t have to wait longer than a lifetime to be able to admire it.

“I’d rather look at you, Wirt.”

The sky became dark once again, lit dimly by the moon that had not yet reached its peak, and the stars that were enshrouded in city smog and humid summer fog. The comet had seemingly passed the torch to Wirt’s red cheeks, nose, and ears. Sara didn’t think she’d ever frown again, completely overwhelmed with giddiness and adoration for the flustered boy beside her.

“It was really breath-taking, wasn’t it?” she asked him, inching closer and poking his cheek, feeling its warmth shoot up through her fingertips. “You should join astronomy club... we could spend more time-”

“Sara, I love you.” Wirt spat, melting beneath her touch. “Can I please… k-kiss you?”

“I love you, too. You can kiss me.” Sara hummed before Wirt clumsily pressed their lips together.

He was definitely joining astronomy club.


	4. One, Two, Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Wirt (And Greg) have their first date at a winter carnival.

If they were just two years older, then they would have been able to drive to the carnival alone, and not have to worry about Wirt’s mother spying on them while she was up on the Ferris wheel because it wasn’t that she didn’t trust them alone, but she didn’t trust them alone.  Wirt’s ears felt hot as he peered up at her from the corner of his eye, the heat becoming steam in the chill of the night air. 

“It’s freezing, huh?” Sara asked, shivering. 

She took the ribbon out of her hair to let her bangs fall in her face in hopes of retaining what little body heat she had. 

Wirt pulled himself away from the chains of swears he was constructing in his mind, and put a lid on the resentment boiling within when he heard Sara’s voice. But just as soon, a reverie overcame him as he looked at the way her eyes glinted in the fluorescent lights of the attractions nearby. 

Yellow for the glow of the full moon, blue for the sky at dusk, and red for the color she always made his cheeks. 

That’d be good for a poem. 

“I told you not to forget your jacket.” Wirt gently scolded her after taking one-too-many mental pictures of her freshly-messy hair.  

“I know, I know.” Sara sighed, rolling her eyes in good nature. 

“I’ll go back to the car to get it for you.” 

“No, no, it’s fine. I can manage!” Wirt had turned to walk away, but Sara reached out to stop him, their hands brushing against each other. She jumped, startling him and making him do the same. 

“Wow! How can you be so warm? It’s so cold!” she laughed, recoiling her hand as though it burned her. 

A blush crept onto Wirt’s already rosy cheeks, as did a goofy grin. Brows raised, he reached for both of her hands, intertwining their fingers. 

“Because _I_ remembered my jacket.” he teased, swaying their arms gently from side to side. “If you don’t want me to go get yours, then you’re gonna have to hold my hands to stay warm.” 

“Even better.” Sara smiled, her cheeks turning as red as Wirt’s sneakers.  

“I want to hold hands, too!” Wirt paused, not prying his gaze away from Sara’s until something small and quite heavy clung to his leg, making his spine go rigid. 

Sara’s sudden bashfulness instantly receded and gave way to a fit of laughter. 

“Hey there, Greg.” she greeted warmly.“Greg.” Wirt stated flatly. 

“HiSarahiWirt!!” Gregory chirped, his pupils dilating. “Momsaid to play withyouguys on account of dad got sick on the tilt-a-whirl and she had totakehimhome.” 

The tiny kid had spluttered it all out in one breath so quickly that Wirt and Sara were forced to be dizzy for him. 

“Wait, what? They _left?”_ the big brother asked in a sort of quiet horror, shivers going down his spine and his voice cracking as he looked down to stare into the face of his demise. 

To make matters worse, Greg’s lips were sprinkled with the pink-and-blue muck of dissolved cotton candy. This was no ordinary nutty kid they had on their hands; this was a nutty kid on a _sugar-kick_. 

“Ooh, that sucks.” Sara frowned sympathetically. “Hope he feels better.”

Ever-expressive, and more or less unaware of the extent, it was easy to tell what Wirt was thinking just by briefly glancing into his eyes. Sara was certain the tangent he was on was being broadcast to her telepathically. The date is _ruined._ Their _very_ first date, as officially a couple, would go down in _flames_ and he was _doomed_ to burn along with them. 

But Sara _loves_ Greg. Who did Wirt think she spent hours playing the world’s most unorthodox game of tic-tac-toe with on Jason Funderburker the frog’s back as they waited for him to wake up in the hospital room after the Halloween disaster? If anything, this would just make it more interesting.

“I’m so glad they didn’t bring you home with them. We can still have some fun, right?” she tried more hopefully, giving Wirt’s hands a gentle squeeze.

Wirt was taken aback by how relieved Sara sounded that Greg was there which starkly contrasted his own panic. Reflexively, he frowned when she let go of his hand, but it faded away as soon as she grabbed onto Greg’s, who shuffled clumsily about in the dirt as he dismounted his brother’s leg.

Sara let go of Wirt’s other hand, and walked so that the littlest of the trio stood in between them, on his tip-toes to keep his grip on the much taller teens. But she wouldn’t let him struggle for long before she looked at Wirt with a playful smile, and they silently agreed to lift Greg and swing him forward as they walked through the fair grounds.

“Yeah… fun. It’ll be fine.” Wirt murmured mostly to himself, because Sara wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyway over Gregory’s delighted squeals. 

But something told her the crisis had been successfully averted when Wirt joined Greg in his laughter. 

“Look, Greg! You’re flying!” he cheered, laughter lines and pearly teeth making his face glow as bright as the moon. 

“Whooosh!” Sara cooed, her heart skipping a beat along with Greg’s as he watched his feet leave the ground in a matter of seconds. 

Two hours went by, but Sara and Greg managed to make it feel like mere moments. Still buzzing thanks to his blood sugar spiking, he tugged Sara and Wirt along from ride to game and back again. He rode the tea cups four times before he showed the _slightest_ indication of getting tired of it. But Wirt couldn’t bring himself to get fatigued either because Greg’s fascination with how they got them to spin was as priceless as it was thought-provoking.

Greg also amazed everyone in the vicinity when he was able to win _twice_ at knocking down milk bottles with a baseball, winning both his brother and Sara stuffed frogs out of sympathy for them because they both tried, too, and couldn’t win _once_. He relished in his victory with poise, and made sure not to brag too much and make the losers at either of his sides feel bad. 

With their mom nowhere in sight as the third hour approached, Greg decided he was too tired after his sugar-crash to walk anymore. So Sara and Wirt chose something tame as they waited to be taken home, climbing into a cart on the Ferris wheel- frogs, sleepy child, and all. Greg finally fell out of it when they reached the top, curled underneath Wirt’s arm for warmth. 

Wirt felt a bit uneasy as the cart swayed in the wind. Why did he agree to this? He hated heights. This was a terrible idea. But Sara wrapped her arm around him and squeezed him tenderly, sighing in satisfaction when Wirt was still again. 

“This was really fun.” she whispered in his ear. 

“Y-yeah, it was.” Wirt whispered back, trying not to stutter.  “Sorry it wasn’t a real date, though.”

“It’s okay. We have, like, a million chances for “real” dates.” 

“We do?”

Sara fell silent for a second as she saw Wirt’s mom walking through the gates of the carnival. She took it as a sign to hurry up and kiss Wirt’s cheek, her lips instantly being flooded with warmth that lingered even after she pulled away. 

“Of course we do.” she reassured as the Ferris wheel began to turn and Wirt reached up to touch his cheek and hide the ear-to-ear smile on his flushed face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First update of the year! Sorry it's been so long! This was a request on tumblr, that I wrote and thought would be a nice addition here. It doesn't stick to the "time line," but I think it may be worth the read? I guess it could conform if this chapter was the very first one in the series rather than "For Wirt." It's just a mess really. Hope you enjoy anyway! ♥


	5. Spill It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara has a rough time at a boring ballet recital.

Sara wasn’t one for complaining, but it was hard not to get agitated by the prickly white feathers adorning the hem of her White Swan costume. If she had had more time before final rehearsal to try it on, she would have grown accustomed to it. But her dance company ordered it too late.

And it wasn’t like her to be bitter, but she noted with a silent sort of disdain that the Black Swan’s costume had been more than punctual in comparison. The girl playing her counterpart in their production was perfectly fitted to her gown, and the feathers that she had were silky smooth and placed a comfortable distance from her neck, where an ebony ribbon and ruby pendant hung to give a divine gracefulness to her already grandiose character.

Sara’s leotard was too tight in the chest. It was wrinkly, and somehow, the stockings she had left in her locker at the studio overnight had a hole in them near the ankle that wasn’t there before. The crown of white roses she was supposed to wear was nowhere in sight.

While her and her team were stretching, the Black Swan not-so-accidentally smudged her white slipper, leaving an ugly stain that would be easy to see under the glow of the spotlight during the performance.

But it was natural for Sara to have a hard time at dance. To say she stuck out among those golden girls would have been an understatement. She didn’t mind though. She was used to that. She embraced it, and smiled through the hardships because she knew that unflinching happiness would irritate them more than their petty pranks and sabotages would bother her…

… right?

Her chest felt tight as she stood backstage, trying desperately to tame her hair with bobby pins before the show finally began. The Black Swan looked at her with smug lips from the opposite end of the stage, though she was hard to see through the dimness. Her eyes seemed to blend in with her dark garments.

“Break a leg out there.” she mouthed to Sara.

As the tech crew fumbled with the lights over the stage, they shone directly on her for a fraction of a second, but even so, Sara could clearly see the malcontent on her partner’s face. So she smiled as sweetly as she could and waved, despite the sick feeling she had in her gut, because nothing seemed to be going right.

She would have been less nervous if she could see a friendly face somewhere. But her mom couldn’t get out of work, and it would have put her career on the line if she decided to bail. Her late father’s attendance would have been utterly terrifying (and reminiscent of an episode of the X-Files). Her friends were busy with their own activities, and she wouldn’t have bothered them to come see her boring ballet recital anyway, so she didn’t tell them it was going on.

She was alone.

She hated being alone, though she wasn’t one to complain. She just had to smile, and spend two hours doing a silly little dance, for a bunch of strangers that didn’t care about her and will probably only care about the Black Swan anyway, because even though Princess Odette is supposed to be the star, she’d be dying before the final act, leaving Odile to walk away with her hands clean to bask in applause.  She had nothing to worry about until curtain call…

… except the fact that she was _so_ uncomfortable. And her hair was a mess. And her shoes were smudged, and the boy playing her unfaithful lover had really sweaty hands all the time and she wasn’t looking forward to having them all over her in act two, and the Black Swan was a _freak_ that she wanted nothing to do with. She just wanted to go home and watch the X-Files.

Her eyes stung, and it was hard to breath because of the stuffiness of backstage, and the smell of perfume in the air as her fellow dancers doused themselves in it. The heat from the lights overhead were giving her a headache.

But it was her turn to go on.

She stumbled a bit before she found her poise, and went into the series of twirls that marked the beginning of her short solo. Spinning past the Black Swan, a good chunk of her hair fell out of her bun and earned her a snicker or two because she sure was pretty maladroit for a ballerina.

_“Wirt! I see Sara!”_

_“Shush, Greg!”_

She shut her eyes tightly. She didn’t want to look out at the crowd full of foreign faces because she knew it would break her composure. At the very least, this was the scene where she was cursed to be a Swan, so the sadness on her face was in-character.

_“Hi, Sara!”_

_“Greg! Be quiet! Now is not the time!”_

Wirt pressed a finger to his little brother’s lips. He sucked in a breath of air to bubble in his cheeks, and didn’t pull his hand away until Greg did the same.

Sara’s feathers began to fly off as she gained momentum and danced to the end of the second scene. With every time she rose her leg into a pirouette, the tear on her tights grew larger. She didn’t hear the audience’s awed gasps as the feathers seemed to swirl in her wake and glow dreamily under the soft pink and red border lights. She didn’t realize the suspense she built up for when the Black Swan lunged forward and pushed her onto the ground to curl in on herself, and nearly jumped in surprise by the sound of their reactions to it.

“Is Sara okay!?” Gregory reached his hand out to her as the curtains closed, marking the start of a brief intermission. 

“Yeah, she’s fine! They’re just pretending.” Wirt murmured to quell his brother’s worries, though he had some of his own brewing; she didn’t look up at the audience a single time.

She hardly even opened her eyes. It wasn’t like her. Even though Wirt knew she was only playing a part, something about her forlorn disposition felt too authentic for comfort.

He shuffled a bit so the bouquet he held sat in front of his face when the curtains opened again. Maybe he should have told Sara he was coming. She had passively mentioned it a few times before in the months leading up to the show’s debut at the theater, but never directly invited him to it. And every time she talked about it, she seemed disgruntled, and quickly tried to change the subject.

He thought she would have loved a surprise at first, but maybe she didn’t want him there, after all.

Greg continued to clap long after everybody else had stopped, but at least he wasn’t screaming for Sara anymore or trying to throw things at the dancer playing the Black Swan.

Wirt watched as the curtains opened again, unveiling a hand-painted, lake-side backdrop, where the boy playing Prince Siegfried, Sara’s love interest, sat somberly. A little too invested in their side story, Wirt visibly cringed when the time came for Odile to coax the Prince into being unfaithful, and their sensual duet began.

“Oh no!” Greg gasped in a whisper that was really just a scream.

“What?”

“If that guy is gonna be with the bad duck now, then Sara has to be a swan forever!”

Wirt was too absorbed in his resentment for the Prince to fully pay attention to the overarching plot of the play, and the curse that could only be broken by true love had slipped his mind. Once he remembered, his outrage came full-on, unbridled by the fact that this was a work of fiction and that Sara wasn’t really under a spell that would doom her to the lake forever.

But he was okay… until Sara finally appeared.

She sauntered slowly onto the stage, a forced smile on her face as she looked around for the Prince. Wirt watched as her joy was crushed by the sight of him dancing with Odile, feeling his heart lurch as tears began to spill from her eyes and she threw her head back until she collapsed on the ground. He could feel himself working up tears.

Odette met with the Prince after his brief affair, distraught by the injustice committed by the Black Swan onto him. They began a final dance, which would inevitably lead to their death by the lake.

Wirt was quietly sobbing all the while. Greg handed him a sock he kept on his person in the case of running into a frog in need to wipe his tears with, but he declined. As Sara and the boy twirled, red ribbons seemed to fall in strings out of their chests as they fell in front of the lake. The curtains closed, leaving Sara to her tears, breathless and entangled in bows.

Her partner looked at her with a grin on his face.

“Woa, Sara! That was so great! I like how you- hey, what’s wrong? Are you really crying?”

He reached out to touch her shoulder but she jerked away.

“I’m fine, thanks. You did a great job too!” she croaked between sobs, wiping the tears from her eyes with the suede fabric of her glove. “Just the adrenaline, and stuff, from the performance is overwhelming, you know?”

“Oh, okay. Happens to me sometimes, too.”  

The final act seemed to end too quickly. Sara felt like she’d only been in the dressing room, wiping the running make-up off of her face for two minutes before another dancer poked their head inside and told her it was time for curtain call. She whipped her hair back into a sloppy bun, and tugged her pointe shoes back onto her sore feet before she ran to the stage, relieved that it was finally over and that she only had to perform it one more time before she never had to think about it again.

She joined hands with the Black Swan, who was being much kinder to her now that she was electrified by the applause, as per the norm, and with Prince Siegfried, her partner in death. They bowed in unison as the lights dimmed, making it easier to see the audience.

_“Sara!!”_

When they came back up, Sara looked into the front row, and saw a huge bundle of white roses tucked underneath a disheveled mess of a person, who clapped animatedly for her, and a little boy who did the same, except he was whistling and shouting her name.

“ **YAY SARA**!!” Greg hopped up and down in his chair.

But it was a fold-down seat, so when he jumped up, it shut on him and left him to plunge to the floor. Sara was stunned, but reflexively felt herself jump just a little toward him, tugging her fellow dancers along with her.

Wirt luckily caught Greg before he got hurt, dropping the flowers and stepping on them in the process. He knelt down to pick them up with his free hand, shaking them as he chastised his brother.

Sara’s heart fluttered in her chest. She would have never expected to see someone there for her after all. She avoided looking in the audience, but Wirt and Greg were there the entire time. To them, she was more than the tragic heroine who was meant to die and the outcast of her dance troupe; she was actually the only reason they came.

As the dancers filtered offstage with the curtains cascading behind them, Sara rushed past them all with a grin plastered onto her tear-streaked face, down the little tunnel leading into the auditorium. Making her way through swarms of people offering a standing ovation, she finally made it to where Wirt and Greg were, still arguing about whether they should still give Sara the crushed flowers.

“Wirt!” she shouted over their bickering and the clapping still coming from around the room.

He turned to see her, rivulets of tears alive and well, streaming down his face. They beamed at one another.

“I’m so happy to see you!”

They embraced each other, the flowers being crushed between them. Wirt tightened his grip around Sara immediately, quickly finding that comfortable spot in the crook of her neck to nuzzle into.  

“Everything is okay, right?” Wirt remembered to ask when they pulled away from each other and he saw Sara crying again.  

But this time, she cried because she was happy.

“Definitely; you’re here!” she laughed. “And so is Greg!”

She leaned down and scooped Greg into her arms.

“Thank you for coming… you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Wirt said gently, smiling as Sara spun around with Greg chirping cheerfully all the while. “ _W-we_ wanted to.”

“And guess what! We’re going to take you for ice cream! And go to the park!”  

“-b-but only if you want to!” Wirt amended, blushing.

“That sounds like so much fun; I’d love to. Tonight was rough.” Sara sighed in exasperation, setting Greg down as he started to squirm with excitement as the dream of having ice cream materialized before him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wirt asked, concern in his tone.

He reached for Sara’s hand, who pondered it for a moment.

“… yeah. Kinda. If you don’t mind.”

“No way.” Wirt assured her. “Spill your guts. I want to hear all about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is full of headcanons! Sorry! I really liked this though, because I wanted to write Sara dancing, and Wirt being supportive of that. Ballerinas don't mess around. Amen.


	6. Band Geeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Funderberker knows what Wirt and Sara have been doing all summer...

Wirt and Sara had been spending most of June and July breaking into the football field to help Wirt prepare for band camp in August.

Sara wasn’t exactly _in_ the band, but as the school mascot, she spent all of football season alongside the band kids, listening to them whine and tell terrible jokes and pick-up lines to distract themselves from their exercises, so she had a pretty good idea of what Wirt would be in for. Plus, her friend once exchanged her marching band uniform and tuba for a go in the bee suit. She spent nearly three hours attempting to do cartwheels while Sara stood proudly with the tuba over her shoulders, spluttering out all of the music terminology she’d ever heard in a nonsensical ramble for anyone who care to listen to suffer through (“ _Ah yes well you see you uh you take your cadence and you put it right in your adagio, then you twist the falsetto into the reed, but don’t forget the uh vibrato, the vibrato is the most important part-“)_

And though she had never been to band camp herself, the horror stories Sara’s friends told her made her determined to get Wirt in the right state of mind and body to handle its rigor, because he was a fine clarinet player and more people needed to know it. It could lead to new friends, scholarships, even a future career in music. And she really, really wanted him to be in the band so they would be together more often outside of school, because Sara’s sophomore year schedule was heavy with math and science, while Wirt’s was more geared toward art and language and they would only be sharing world history and a lunch period. 

Sara, instead, had to spend the bulk of the day with Jason Funderberker glued to her hip and _boy_ was he excited about that.

Hands firmly on his shoulders, Sara had been giving Wirt a pep talk to will him to finish his second mile around the field when Jason- on his way home from 3 o’clock mass at the church up the road- peered at them over the huge leather case he struggled to carry.

He had gone undetected by Sara, who knew the most important part of being a good trainer for Wirt (besides the vibrato, apparently) was to keep eye contact so he would know that she was in it for the long haul. But Wirt’s blood froze whenever Jason was in the area. He slowly turned away from Sara to stare with bleary brown eyes into Jason’s beady black pupils.

Out of breath, Wirt heaved out a shrill cry and meekly tugged on Sara’s t-shirt to direct her attention to the intruder. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Before either of them had time to make an escape- through their secret spot behind the bleachers-Jason Funderberker- after having tossed his case- was scrambling over the gate, his plaid slacks getting caught on the jagged old metal and nearly exposing his Jiggly Puff briefs (not that it would have been the first time, what with the too-big suits he makes it a point to wear every day to school).

Sara watched with horror as he made his way across the fifty yard line, feeling Wirt’s muscles tense with each step.

Wirt buried his face into Sara’s chest and released a groan he’d been biting back their entire training session, because he didn’t want Sara to know how much he hated it, because even though it sucked he’d do it to make her happy and to be around her more. He would have asked her to just ignore him and that maybe if they were lucky it would make him go away, but he knew she was too nice for that.

Sara sheepishly pet Wirt’s head as a sort of silent apology.

“Heeeeeey guuuuys!” Jason croaked, wiping the sweat from his brow, his fuzzy hair seeming like a breeding ground for gnats because they swarmed him from the moment he stepped onto the field.

He didn’t seem to mind.

Sara murmured a “Hey, Jason,” and Wirt didn’t bother to muster up more than a despondent grunt.

“I knoooow what you’ve been doing here all summer.” Jason growled huskily, making everyone- even himself- a bit uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and tried to go back to looking smug, putting his hands on his hips. “And I have a surpriiiiiise for you.”

Wirt had turned himself around in Sara’s arms, intrigued, though still very much annoyed. Sara rested her chin on Wirt’s hair, mostly to hide her face so she wouldn’t have to watch whatever embarrassing display Jason was about to force them to endure.

Like the Flash, Jason ran over to his case and just whipped out a saxophone, so bronze and freshly polished that the sunlight glinting off of it immediately blinded Wirt and Sara, who were already stunned by learning that their friend didn’t just like punk jazz, but that he was well-versed in the art.

In that instance, it all made sense, because he had been dropping hints to them every so often that he had been trying his hand in music, but they mistook it for his usual weirdness. He decided that his playing would speak for itself, licking his milky white lips and blowing into the mouth piece, spindly fingers gliding expertly over the keys and filling the air with music. He tossed his head back passionately as he felt it in his soul, tapping his loafer into the crispy grass beneath him to the tune of his song.

If Sara hadn’t been pressing it against Wirt’s head, her jaw would have been hanging open in utter shock at how ridiculous this situation was.

Wirt was deadpanned, silently seething because _of course_ Jason Funderberker played the saxophone- damn good, too- and _of course_ he would be joining the marching band. He would be going to _band camp_ with him. All those half-times he looked forward to seeing Sara and kissing underneath the bleachers were spoiled in his mind, because Jason Funderberker would _be_ there, gesturing to him with finger guns and whistling before going to wait for them to finish by the track shack.

“Oh my gosh.” Sara let go of Wirt’s shoulders and snaked them underneath his arms to clap for Jason once he’d finished his performance.

She waited a moment and nudged Wirt’s neck with her nose to get him to clap, too, and when he didn’t, she reached for his hands and did the clapping for him.

“Jason. That was wild.”

“Thaaaanks, Saraaaa. I’ve been practiciiiing!” Jason squeaked hoarsely, throat feeling strained. “What did you think, Wiiirt?” he asked hopefully, showing the faintest hint of humbleness as he anxiously awaited an answer, because he looked up to Wirt!

He was damn good on the clarinet!

“It was really good, Jason Funderberker.” Wirt sighed, slapping his hand over his eyes and shaking his head.

Jason looked star-struck for a moment, showing his teeth as he grinned, which were freshly-bound with braces. He was a sweaty, nerdy mess of a boy. But he was their sweaty, nerdy mess.

“Can I run with you guuuys?”

Wirt sighed again. Sara smiled.

“Sure.”

If he could handle training with Jason Funderberker, then band camp was going to be a breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another request from tumblr! Oh my gosh, I contemplated making this a separate story because the Poetic Bee is rather subtle? And I took advantage of the chance to write about Jason being an annoying dork very seriously and it shows. But I decided to in the end. Hope it was the right choice XD Don't want Jason to taint this beautiful thing I got going here.


End file.
